



















COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



















NIGHTMARE LAND.* 

By 


<3. ORR CtARKl. 

n 

(Authoi* of 
THE MOON BABIE5 ) 


Pictures by Caroline Love Goodwin. 




R H RUSSELL, 

PUBLISHER. 

NEW YORK, MCMI. 



C.54? 

A/ 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Comes Received 

OCT. 21 1901 

COPvmQHT ENTRY 

(Tot /*)-/?<> / 

CLASS CO XXc. No. 
/ ^ / i sT 
COPY B. 


C C < . < t 


t .€ t .1 


l ' C <' c 


COPYRIGHT 190], 
ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL, 


t 



NIGHTMARE LAND. 


Being a veracious account of the Country and Bow to 
get There , with some description of the inhabitants and their 
manners and customs. The children of TL very Band, need 
not fear to enter Boldly into this realm, for, though curious 
and amusing adventures may hefall them , the evils of 
Nightmare have Been much exaggerated and the innocent 
fancies never told. Indeed it has been a wholly unexplored 
and nnchronicled continent. The trouble is that coohBas 
heretofore Been allowed The prerogative of arranging 
tBe itinerary of the tours, and it has been so unsystematic 
and irregular that many Bave abandoned tBe journey 
midway, or, proceeding, Bave Been stranded in that bourne. 
Any who Bave succeeded in straggling Bach. have told such 
confused tales that they Bave Been utterly worthless as 
historians. Therefore , I have set down this truthful recital , 
for the sake of those who have never been there, those 
whose memories need refreshing, and those who want 
directions to Nightmare Band . 


G. Orr Clark. 


T '* 

Jt's time to go toted, turn up yourweaiy soles. 
And button up your eyes in their satin buttonholes! 


NIGHTMARE 

LAND 







Jow do you get to Nightmare Land ? 
On the pony. Counterpane, 

You leap on his bach and away you go 
Clutching his tassel mane. 

He's made of the bundled bedclothes 
The quilt-fringe is his rein 
He whisks you around Pie Corner 

Then he gallops down Pudding Lane . 


Your Nightmare is your crib, my child . 

And he jumps straight through the moon, 
His woodeny ribs go creaXing along 
A strange uncanny tune. 

You go a thousand miles or so 
Ridiculously soon , 

And then you two come racing bach 
In arolliching Tigadoon ! 



"You go, but you never return again 

By "the same old twist and the same old pain.. 

"With distorted creatures from, your own brain 

You walX and you bounce and you fly and strain . 

Past fields of wild and enchanted grain : 

But as for me - for me, I’m fain 

"Not to go to Nightmare Land. •/£: 

By Pichle Town and by Crackerville 
By Olive Orchard and Rum- Sauce Rill 

Past Turnover field and PlumcaKe Hill, 0 %; 

You climb and climb and climb -until 
You've had -your feast and had your fill, 

You roam and the Ver- wolves try to hill - 

You, and you vake with a scream that is loud and shrill ;VH|” 
Only in Nightmare Land . : 

You leap o’er a Brandy ’Waterfall 

Through a Lohster Mound and you call and call ' ^ 

Tor the small retainers of Candy Hall 

There Goblins fierce and wild and tall V % 

Hurl you over an awful wall 

And you fall , and fall, and fall , and fall , 

And wake with a scream thats no scream at all 
Way clown in Nightmare Land ! 



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I look abroad just after nine. 

And in the heavens see the shine 
Of tHe little pleasant moon 
Making, of the night-time, noon. 
A-T 1 d asl look , I think that I 
vvould like to jump clear to the sky! 
And then toboggan down a beam 
Of moon.and past the Isle of Dream 
Go skimming on the snowy white 
Slide of opalescent light. 

The little crescent moon we’d take 
And a gay toboggan make, 

Then wed go and sit inside 
And down to earth we'd swifly glide ! 




0 1m the w^Ly to’NiglVtTOai'e land 
T& to tol«.e tie Nut- Calve road 


‘ TK^ ^Inin Ptidding Route is tie way you. go, 
; Viti tonS arul toniS ofaload . 

np at tie Bottomless THt , 1 leaf, 
fly to tie slty, of course ; 


and tie lakes are pies 
long clee s e-stids 

fTl^ Cities are Iniilt 6f Buclwheat Cakes, 
instead of lfid.s. 


^steed tlvat carries you 

MBlIl 


-vame runaway sieea uuu c 
a Bnckitig Bronco,too., 

!' ‘J//+-, " * And the worst of it is that you are not you. 


^iAnd^yet acg-airv you are wholly you , 
.I'hdl.soitielow; You are Tvot yon ! 




xHey "Have fritter ears, and 
DriTtvplixtc) cKeeKs 
And -wierd little 
Pancake Ire arts 
Ttieir liglvts and livers 
Are heavy as lead. 

And are made from 
^ Gooseberry tarts ! 
Their noses 
Are roses 

Cut fi-ombeets andtheygo 
By fits and start s . , 


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1 he Sandman wants to play 
“Blindman *s Buff” they say 
So a'ker chief snug lie lies 
Over twenty million eyes . 

Then they tinkle down the stairs 
Like a rill, the little players . 
And -under ceil and rafter 
The Night goes foTL’wing after ^ 
’’With a wink at all the laughter. 
Out of forty million eyes. 

That sprinkle all the heavens 
With a twinkle and a wink all 
Full of fun at sleepy sighs . 
At the close of every clay 
The Sandman wants to play 
'Blindmah* s Buff - and j'ohe cries- 
" Come, who wants to blind their eyes?' 






*.11 aboard -fox the Comet Train 
Flying across the Celestial plain. 

All aboard for this Palace car 
Of this lively train That's bound for a star. 

This Star- route line soars through the blue 
And carries folhs up toMoonville,too. 

It stops at the planets and fairly flies 
Like a Tightening Express along the shies. 

All aboard for The Limit e d , dears. 

It only comes every sixty years ! 






.Ke "Witch Children come in the night 
"With whistles to hlow out the light , 

They curdle the cream 
They maKe babies dream. 

Then, onbroomstick-the steed, take their flight. 

They pinch your small nose with a. jerk.. 
Then up onthehedpost they perk.. 

Upset all the jugs j 

And drain all the mugs. 

They d.ouble and trehle the work. 







I ■ • 

JLtl your spandxest gown, I declare. 

They fasten ahideous tear ! 

For of,course,as yon. said 
When yon went up to Bed, 

That very .same hole wasn’t there . 

\ 

These things , if they ’re half of them true. 
Completely exonerate you , 

There’s quite along string. 

But everything 

Must he what those Witch Children do? 



When fhe Night-uvan comes 
from his garret in the shy. 


lie puts a little “kerchief 
On your eye, eye, eye , 

And then he runs away 
And hides - oh my \ 

And he counts just twelve. 

And he s»ys, w dont peep" 
And you nil tumble off 
Of the edge of sleep . 

When you open up your eye , 
You may cry, M I spy”! 

But you’ll never catch the 

hight-man in the shy. 





S leepy -bead 

Sleepy -bead 

Dcmt you want to go tolled ? 

*Wbat a b old bad baby t o bd isfayipg 
Tip so late ! / . • :* 

TKe s^ndmau’s coming doWn. 
TVoxn. tbe cots of Trottytp^rr*.:, 

And youbave sbut your eyesand gone 
to sleep downliere instead . - . 


Sleepy-bead ‘ 

Sleepy -Tread ! 

Dont yon want to go to bed ? 

Wbat a funny baby to be staying up so 
late ! 

Tbe Sandman’s copying down 
Past tbe lawns of Yawnytown - 
Go to tbe Aunt , tbou sluggard, and be 
carried off' to bed ! . 



I et’s ladle tbe babies into tbe bfotb— • ........ v. ' :> 

iTKe brotb of tbe niqbt and darbr time!*; y •'•".'c Ar Ay.VvA' 
s stir tKcin xip inline moonleam fiotlx^ y , „ 

TKe frotb of tbe stars and spaTb~tim£^' 

Let’s take for aladle 
A. little old cradle , 

And scoop up tbe babies to dream 
S o they -will be done 

A-#- ^ * 


To be 


At time of tbe sun 

















■Wockaby off online Rocker Route , 

Sleepykins goto sleep. 

And you and I and line dream-fays 
Shall gallop and trot and leap . 

Hush little Stars of the Night-time. 

Don't “whisker” don’t laugh, don’t speak. 

And we -will go in the chanting chair. 

The chair with the beautiful squeals.. 

I remember the rowdy old rocker 

When I was a“little folks” too. 

When Auntie sang me the old. old sonqs, 
And 1 and the world were new. 

We used to goby the Rocker Route , 

In a jiffy, we two weie there. 

The nursery walls went hurrying past 
The wonderful squeaking chair. 

The scenery flew, and just we two 
Went flying up to a star - 

Then back, again, with a swing and dip. 
Over the cloud roads far. 

Back in such slowly dying curves , 

Down over valley and peak 

Tand the world together swung. 

In the chair with the beautiful squeak 



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^Tou rcvuLst fake the cradle curtain 
A And fashion sucla a sail 
Add aTudder,to le certain. 

And let it face "the gale ; 

Let the tiny "shipper” 

Go dipping to the “dipper” 

On ablast of perfume, and through the comets tail. 

Take the curtain stick, and make it 
Such a tall and stately mast \ 

Bid the Baby go and take it 

Till the night has all been past ; 

And when the little sailor 
Vakens -with a 'wail or 

Scream for breakfast-hottles we will rescue him at last 

By the light -house moon he floundered, 

Such a welcome friendly sight \ 

And he very nearly foundered 

'Neath a wave of covers white 
He ran the sea of umber 
And dangers without number 
And pointed star-rocks grazed him ere he landed here at light. 




















our little Saint George is imdressed- 
(A saint -well who ever had guessed ! ) 

We give him a light 
And lie travels all night 
Of lively adventures in quest. 


He tilts at the Dragon of Dreams, 


Whose eyes are such diamond gleams ! 





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■ wo turquoise are 
JL My little eyes , 

Lihe two jewels 
Softly .hid, 

In their tiny 
Cushets - so - 
Shut down tight 
‘Meath satin lid *, 

Lest the Robber 
Of the Might, 

Come to plunder 
Shining stars. 

With his Bull’s -Eye 

Moon, should creep 
For them through 

The crih-side hars. 



^y^Then I go to bed in the night , 

I start with a beautiful light. 

For every one knows 
It scatters the foes 

That hring us such fear and such fright. 

Oh this is my torch and it scares 
All the hideous lions and hears. 

That prowl in the dark. 

But flee from this spark 
When my foot-fall is heard on the stairs! 



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“ I dreamed I 'was a custard pie , 

A With covers creamy white , 

Arid my internal workings were 
So very nice and light . 

And seven great-grandmothers 
Came to visit me that night, 
And. fourteen elephants careened 
Across my heavy sight . 

And 1 seemed stuffed with raisin5 

* i And hits of orange peel. 

Oh dear me when you. are a pie 
You know how queer you feel . 

I wanted to rise up and break 
My crust and simply squeal 
Dpt I could n’t move a single toe 
"Nor yet a single heel. 

The counterpane grew sodden 
The sheets were hard and dry 
I wished I was a boy aqain,— 

A boy, and not a pie! 

"Be careful what you eat at night” 

;> Says nurse, and so must you, 

Or else you’ll have to ride astride 
A Snorting nightmare tpb! 




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live Stars are Gold en Poppies 
* That are blooming in the sKy 
Itv live beautiful Moon-Meadow5 

They are ’Hanging bright ■and high. 



'T is they who scatter sleepy juice. 
And wondrous magic dew, 

On all the little Baby-buds , 

Drowsy, dear,lihe you . 


When the Poppy Bells make music. 

When the Poppy Bells are ringing, 

Inwierd and winsome measures, 

When they're swinging and they’re flinging 



They are throwing, they are blowing 
Over you, their magic spells. 

And thats what happens when the sky- flowers 
Shake their golden hells \ 




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Ken tKe qames Begin to Bore us 
TKen we start tKe Yawninq Chorus , 
When tKe curtains of tKe night 
Shut away tKe lovely light 
And whenhook and toy no more 
Please ns with tKeir magic lore 
AK 

ah 

ah 

ah ahh-K-K-K-h-h-h- 


‘ "Yawns are catching” so they say • 
All X know is .they’ve a way 
Of going stretching down the line 
Till we're a set of roKbins fine . 
"You must he an athlete to 
Yawn as wide as we can do 

Ah 

ah 

ah 

ah - ahh-h-h-h-h-h-h- 





















we went to the sea- shore 
f Together last June, 

And the bathtub, we 5 aw. 

Of the Man in the Moon. 


Ve saw all the sand 

Of the Sandman, I think.. 
That’s why we grew sleepy 
And fell on the brink. . 






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T e moon is 21 great hig cKeese 

Ail yellowish- green and nice. 

(I'm. glad tWt thats been settled at last!) 
The stars are the hungry young mice . 

’You -will see 'when the month is “all gone 
There' 11 he only a single slice „ 

While larger and. fatter have grown 

The hundred and hxmgxy young mice 


... • t • 










* 





I 

JL roaiti down the lane 

Of the green hall, at night. 

And. the very first thing 

There’s the hat-tree insight. 
The Umbrella Plants 

Are sti ching their heads 
Up from the swamp 

Of their water -lined beds , 
The "Rubber Plants peeping 
To look at my face , 

And curious vines 

Crawl all over the place , 
Up the tall sides. 

Of the banks , either hand , 


And there in the comer 

A cane-brake doth stand . 
Out of this jungle 

Peep "parasol-flowerj',” 
And fox- gloves made out 
Of a fox shin of ours . 

The lovely hat-tree 

As it grows in that soil 
Around it has fastened 
A hideous coil ! 

And IT frightens me most 
This BOA of fur 
IT a hangs on the tree - 
Pa gave it to her. 







T 

Ahe Hallway to my little room 
Itravel in the dusk and gloom 
At bedtime , whenl 90 toted. 

And ■WhentKe dear goodnights are said. 
Alone, I traverse that dimroad 
Along whose darksome sides are sowed 
The strange wall-paper flowers that peep 
About the terraces of sleep 
And there upon that lane I pass 
My Hohhy ■nibbling at tlve grass , 
While I am sure behind each door 
'Will issue soon, a lions - roar ! 

The Hall's Highway, a Bandit gang, 
Hides carefully. I've heard the hang 


Of their old guns , X do declare , 

It is attying thoroughfare \ 

But in the -morning- oh how odd 1 
The awful stretch, at night,! trod, 
Becomes the old , familiar way 
That leads -me down to food and play. 
And as the dining-room appears, 

I blithely laugh at all my fears , 
Scramble upon the 5ofa-banh, 
Indulge in many a gleeful praxiK., 
Kiss all xrvy dear relations twice , 
And fold my napkin up so nice l 
And then forget along the way 
The toilsome, fearsome Hall Highway? 




Mv Crib it is a little horse. 

On which I ride the lengthy course 
Of bold and curving dark Highway 
That leads from Suppertime to Day. 

He has four hard and hasty hoofs 
Vith which to pound the neigbors roofs. 
The footboard is his neighing head 
His tail is made of flying spread 
His mane floats hack in such a way 
I love my dashing little Bay. 

Ve leap across great dinner plates 
for hoops we crack our tiny pater 
Upon the sky we ride so high- 
And then across the hills we fly. 

I really hav’n’t such a horse 
These fire pudding thoughts of course! 



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JL Have an old wagon, folks call it a. "bed 

That goes every night down to Drowsetowi\,myliead 

Is filled with the pleasure, and soonl ara drawn 

By the glittering Nightmares straight into the Dawn. 

I leave all my family with hisses and hngs 
And wrap up my legs in the cosiest rugs, 

My little Bream -Driver trigs hat'd at the reins 
And away we Doth fly o’er the white counterpanes ■ 

Then He stands on my waist -line and “geehaws” some more 
In. a way that just sounds lihe an underbred snore. 

But Iknowit'j Breams, so I never once mind. 

And we gallop along in the teeth of the -wind. 

Then we land in the middle of Most Anywhere, 

We dandle down ridges, and leap through the air 
We shim over lakes and we shat e over streams 
And that’s how they ride in the Country of Dreams . 

When it’s seven o'clock,we hitch up each colt 
And away lihe the stonti we will willingly holt , 

The rumhling red wagon -they call it abed" 

Is hitched at its post- "I am ready I said’’ 

So shut my eyes tightly - the lapr oh e is up drawn 
And Ho! for the rosy-red meadows of Dawn . 



H alf my life I have to spend 

Dre ssing and undressing , friend , 
And as I button, luce and bend 

It seems to never have an end. 

I lose much time in doing this 

And pleasant things I often miss. 
I also hate the name of "Sis" 



T #ife would te beautiful ,X think 
If I did not have to drink 

Eat my meals and. climb tKe stair 5 
Wash my Hands and say ray prayers . 


Eife would h>e beautiful and grand 
If I did not have to stand 

And read from out a silly hook 
WHile fisH were "Hopping in the brook . 


Eife would he Heantiful , 1 s’pose , 





to and fro 
On amaigic carpet of cloud 
We’ll visit the "land. 

On eveTy .liand 

In a nice three cornered crowd 

An opal ring. 

We’ll tilt and swing 

With a lining of cinnabar. 

By Iceland’s cape 
A ghostly shape 

We'll float past moon and star. 


O’er rivers dim 
Ancl the shining 
Oflah.es and ponds we’ll pass 
Our gentle car 
As seen afar 

A "breath on that upturned glass . 

Past the Windward. Isles 
The silver miles 

We’ll slip over forest and. snows, 
Till ve’re blownto bed 
By the wind ahead 
And never a. creature, knows . 


That’s the way to travel 
"No dust nor gravel 

No -ruts to tip the car ! 

Oh this is the way 
To see, Cathay 
And the edges of Zanzibar ! 












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|f Night should maroon 
‘Ifou.iny lad , on the moon. 

The terrible Pirate of Night, 
Ton seize theblachrag 
Of his contraband flag 

And signal your horrible plight. 


We’d sail the lagoon. 

To the wonderful Woon 

And rescue you hoi dy, my lad , 

And we’d bring you home 
Through the roseate foam 

Prom the Pirates so blust’ring and had ! 





T 

JLke Moon is a custard pie 
Hung -up in live heavens so high , 
So hoys wont fret 
And finally get 
A pain in fheit* by and by. 


Oli see tl\e moon in the prtrple shy 
The yellow moon. that is hung so high! 
First a quarter sliows 
Then ahalf-moon glows 
And at last it’s a whole hig pie . 


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^A^ould you liKe to taRe live TMLooxi. Sivip 
* Axid explore live Seas of SRy- ? 

Do 'you. tXxixtl*. -yoTi'cl X>e afraid , clxild , 
To go sailing np so liigh ? 

You would see fixe Cloudy Coat ixx exits 
Tlie Islands made of Stars 
And wouldnf it be joll-y* 

To be Jolly Moon Slxip Tars ! 


^UkJltcTe is the little haby? 
tt Ve must put him -away to grow 

For who could do such a. serious tiling 

When people axe wat ching , you know . 

Oh where is the sleepy "baby? 

Weil put him away to grow. 

In the dark, and the night mysterious 
Things will happen you know. 

No one e’er saw ahaby 

Grow and grow and grow. 

And yet you can see, they change so fast. 
They certainly must, you know, 

So find me that late, late hahy 

And bundle him. thus and so . 

For he’s got such wonderful things to do 
lie’s got to go and grow ! 





ed Time! lied Timel-The Sleepyman knocks 
* its time to put you. up in your little white hed. 
Like a little gold ring in a jeweler's t>ox > 

* * • * % C 

With fleecy cotton all around your head. 




















JLHe stars once used to have away 
Of winking at the close of day - 
As if "they very slyly said. - 
“Here comes the maid, best <30 to bed.” 
Once, all I xised to know was, I 
Loolced upward at tl\e evening sky. 
And almost straightway after tea 
It was morning - dont yon see ? 

Now all of this is past, for I 
Have grown much, nearer to the shy 
The ground seems very far away 
“He grows so fast” the famly say. 

I am so proud to sit xip late 
For now I stay till after eight ! 

And I have got a sister wee 
Who falls asleep just after tea . 





eo-ple with looping Poster hair 
Drive you over the edges there 
And they toss you into the misty air — 

Dubbily people -with goggiling stare. 

People who never must seem aware 
That you. are living there anywhere 
And the things they do and the things they dare 
Axe really most exceedingly rare 
Any place but in Nightmare Land 


Your father has -your mothers head. 

And the hing and scullery-maid are wed. 
And oh the foolish things they have said ! 
The people have twenty arms instead. 

Of the usual number, and green and red, 
They roam around with a noiseless tread 
And fill you with such a nameless dread. 
While your heart is made of lead, lead, lead. 
"Way down in 'Nightmare Land . 


The people of Nightmare are many and. few. 
They have pillowy, bolstery figures too. 

And half of their legs a madman drew, 

It*s surely enough to frighten you! — 
Composite horrors are they with. blue 
And crimson hair - yes every hue ; 

It makes the beads of frosty dew 
Stand out on your brow, for they never grew 
Anywhere "but in Nightmare Land. . 




T 

■ do not think I’d care to know 

JL People that I meet in dreams. 

The strangest set 
Yon ever met - 

At least to me,it seems. 

The Persons that one meets in dreams 
Are so unfair and rude 
They rush right in 
Pretend they’re 'Kin, 

Their sentiments intrude. 

The People in your dreams cannot 
Talk sanely of their politics. 

They mop their brows 
Indulge in rows 

Resort to underbreaded tricks; 

Their observations make intones 
You cannot fail to hear aright 
This wretched lot 
I'd rather not 

Know, they are too impolite 

They push and jerk and do such things ! 
They are so horrible and rough. 

The oddest sort 
To thus comport 

idmselves in manner rude and. rough. 











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L«^,Litile "WTiite Slveep , 
w In your wooly -white gowns 
Mother -will herd you 
In from live downs . 

Tip over the stile 

Of fHe crib-side youleap 
And off- o’er the meadows 
Of dream *axui of sleep . 

The White Poppy Meadows, 

Tire Droozy -Drowse meadovjf ; ; <’ , 
Tlie slnnvb erly meadows of xii cjht -tim e 
"WlxeTre lie the -white plains, V' 
Of the counterpane , spread- 
jump , Tittle X.aiTib’Jkins , 

Jump into bed ! 


ome 


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^^ittle Acolyte 
Of the bedtime and the nigbt , 
Inyo-ur gown of flowing white 
And your swaying can dl e -light 


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Therefore , Acolyte , 

Of the bedtime and the night. 

In your gown of flowing white, 
Ta"ke your swaying candle light. 


MMara» 


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JLhe Sandman’s never rough. 

With his box of magic snuff 
He throws out just enough 
To mahe you feel like fishing 
"Your eyes, two little "sinkers” 
Close their funny little “winkers” 
Like a pony’s tiny"blinkers”— 
And ”bed,bed,bed ! ” 


Is all a hoy replies , 

As with drowsy little sighs. 

He closes up his eyes 
And nods his head, head, head 
Like a sleepy poppy bell. 

In a dusky twilight dell. 

When the fairies weave their 
And lightly tread , tread, tread 






hat is it piping at ray ear 
What pushing at the door? 

What is it sets the leaves and things 
To dancing on the floor. 

A 

What is it ruffles up the cats 

Black, fringe , and what that makes 

The shutters hang against the wall. 
The curtain tassel shakes? 

What is it turns the pages of 

My hook, and lends the flame? 

And only whistles at my BACK. 

Oh can you tell his name ? 


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f hen it is time to go to bed 
I take tKe light aud walk ahead 
And when our long procession starts 
For those lovely Foreign Parts , 

Of Xotusville,! head the van. 
Because it is the safest plan. . 

And down the •winding length of hall 
1 lead my mother grand and tall , 

I lead -my brother onher breast, 

I also lead there all the rest 
Of prancing Shadows tall and grim 
By holding up my candle’s glim. 

And I- I’m not so much afraid. 

Although 1 am a little maid , 

I like to have them follow on 
My footsteps ,to the edge of Dawn, 

I like to watch them smile and yawn . 







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^oxne, let’s go ^ailm^ overlive sea.. 

The Sea of theltight ancl Darktime, 

’With, pillows 
Tor 'billows 

Oh. let ns sail.tobebaclcbyfhe stroke oflarktime! 


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■We'll steer for five Port of Dreams,! think. , 
Past tbe •wonderful lantern. Isles , 
Mama will pilot 
Us on to the Islet 

Of D ewy-Tye s -D imp! es - an d - Smil e s \ 


Then away' away o’er the sea of white. 
Away o'er the swan’s down foam. 
We’ll start from the City 
Of Croon-and-Ditty, 

And land in the porch at home . 


We’D stop at the -wharf of the porch and wait 
To be tied to the pillar -piles 
The Captain and crew 
Are just “ns two v - 
So off for the Island of Smiles ! 





^Joing up to "bed each nigHt 
Is such, an awful bore \ 

I cant evexv have tbe fun 

Of bearing bow I snore. 

For when I wake *and tbixVR that I 
Will snatch. one as it flies 


The snore-box stops and I am filled 
Once more with vast surprise . 









night we climb the hills of 
Where grow the *baxuusters^o-‘||^|p 
Like bushes, and we struggle 

Fast holding to each shiny, stic&fey 

And on the hilltop, very s ooxi,; * ^$2® 
A big, wood clock-tree stands^J^ 
From whi ch the small tick-minute s dto^|§^ 
Like nuts within our hands^-^S^ 

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have a cricket on the hearth 


But oh! it does not sing, 


£^$>4;’$^ held my ear down carefully 
ivlSSivlS And listened to the thing . 


^fe?SP ur P*uts Ivis feet upon 


h cannot rise and sing! 




l ust when I touch my pillow 
eJ l am fast asleep they say,— 
And then, in just a second 
/ t; ‘ It is broad and busy day. 

I fall asleep and lo it is 





Dear Roger with His candle ligHt 
And Maysie in Her ^own . 


Ve stu. Table out among the stars 
As we go trudging on , 

We stub our toes against them too 
Upon tHat Phantom lawn . 


Returning, no one questions ns. 
Though we intend, to tell 
But sonieHow it is scattered fax’ 
By Jolly BreaWfast Bell! 








HLk 

Dre-a.TO.lixve 
HusK Kliimlixve 

TKe world is Kusbed for you, 
Tiigbt li gilts iter -st-ara 
Draws curtain Kars 

To Kide ns -all from view. 

IIusK SleepKin, 

Ku.sK PeepleiTi, 

TKe world is dumb for yon. 
TKe birds and bees 
TKe flowers and frees 

Are sleeping, sleeping too'. 




I he King of the Bahies is dwelling 
'Neath onr humble roof tonight, 
With his -rattle-scepter he sways *us 
And shows ns his Kingly might . 


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When he sails on the Ocean, Darkness, 

Ont over its dn shy marge vl -/. i 

His slaves with fan and with cooling draiigtit . / ’ •> 

Charter the Royal ISarge- -r' 


The Poppy - " B oim d for Lotus ville” 



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these Sleepy~heads,tut.tut \ 
Tl\ey have their eyes all swollen shut 


Like abee-sting, all because 
Tbey lie in bed, and fold Their paws . 

When they’re called they simply cry 
That old answer over then. 

Like the lady in the song , 

"Lhet -oh-lhet me d rheme again!” 

I know such a Sleepy-head 
Wants to always lie in bed. 

All the morning . or he cries . 

Let’s give him YEAST and make him -rise ! 







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hen the maid rings the hell 
It’s hard to tell 
Whether I’m really very well. 


But if I I^ltlow there's n. Big corn cake ! 
Mercy Sake ! 

It’s easy to tell I in sound, awake . 




am -a very little girl 
I have sxich round, rcnirid eyes 
ILeep them open nil daylong 
■With looks of mild surprise . 


That’s what the daytime's for,Ihnow, 
For there is much. to see. 

For anyone that's got to grow 
Like -very Little TMe. 


At night I beep my eyes shut tight , 
At morn they light my face , 

As sharp as two small microscopes 
Within their velvet case . 






Ln the land of Dreamy- Drowse, 

Where the kindly kinek.ix\ browse 
(Jthese are children, of the cows?) 

- . You may .96 at evening far 
-V' '••• V ’ i "Through the meadows where there are 
Black, boughs filled with star or\ star . 

Vpn.my child , must Know that these 
_ . _ Are the strange celestial trees 

That ho mortal .ever sees ; 
mMSBlMiJir: ;fbey are planted, up so high 






look from the nursery window, “nights” 
And there in the garden, oh me! 

Is a beautiful sight 
For the pale moonlight 
Has turned, to a silver sea. 

There are ships that sail in the boisterous wind, 
At least so it looks to me ! 

The clouds are sails 
And they ride the gales 
With masts of a tall pine tree. 

The branches are yard arms firm and bold 
They're anchored upon that tide. 
The branches toss 
And how across 
The length of the garden side! 


They dip and slip, and they bend and 
And they tip their gilded spars j 
Only at night 
Do they ride the white 
Seaneath the light of stars! 



J^he village where I sl\op by* day 
And bold to mother s hand 

At night becomes a great black, spot 
With nothing nice nor grand.. 

Till Night tables up a handfull of 
The stars and sprinkles down 

The spangles in such lovely showers 
Upon the little town. . 

And then I see it glow and burn 
And wink, a'pl^usant night". 

Oh when it twinkles there that way 
It is a charming sight ! 


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eve rented a Cot for the Baby 
Oiv the Borders of "Yawnyville, 

And this particular Cot is built 
Of alittle bit of a swans dovm quilt 
iv the summit of Sleepyhill; 
ream -vines coyer its basKet roof 
All bending witlvbloss omy things, 
T h e dainty structure is lightning proof 
\ ; , "When abdt-like blossowirhvqs 

ST J ' - TJpfi-orothe carpet- grass waving there 

fronvthe Valleys of Corridor, 


' r-..,/ The -mischievous elves 
Go TnooxvxTvg themselye s 
Oyer the nursery floor. 

Oh the little white Cot of Aawney ville! 
) ' It*s alotusy; hind. of a. place, 


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ilie "Moon- doch in live shy 
Tells the hours for By '«n\d By , 

With a bland -and smiling face 
She goes ticking tkroughtlie race, 

With impartial looh. she’ll scan 
Baby, yonth and older man , 

And Trier pendulum is lru.ng 
With a daxxlixig star that’s swung 

By its drains of beams tlrat go 
Through tl\e Tieavens,to and fro. 

And the little Babies sleep 
While her watches sl\e dotli h.eep ; 

"Wliile she drops tire precious lionrs 
In the Bosoms of the flowers. 

And her big machinery 
Is the tide within the sea ! 



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■ urious trees in 

Our garden are growing 
Trees with such singular 
Fruit on IKem too. 


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They are silvery stars 

And they burst from the branches, 
Whenever they're ripe , 

Just as sky rockets do. 


So we will “keep watching them 
Every evening 
Until theyVe oil ripe , 

And it’s Fourth-of-July *, 


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And then -we -will shoot them. 

You dear little brother. 
In great golden showering S 
Straight up to the sky ! 




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D o you remember how we sent 
The rockets last July, 

Right from the ground beside our gate 
Exploding to the skg ? 

We heard those exclamation points. 
So loud and bold, burst there. 
Upon the great cloud pages 
In the sultrg summer air. 

We never thought to see them in 
The heavens bg and bg - 
But there they are as little stars, 
They stuck there in the sky ?! 



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you. seen the Chimney Pots 
VKo'ie living on our -roof? 
They are the oddest folhs I know, 
TtsliRe ax\ Opera Gonffe . 



There's aNandarm and Sailor 
And there’s a stately Queen, 
And all of them as hlacK as soot 

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The strangest ever seen.;! 


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Looh^ there’s a creature int a yeil , 
(A dnShy Oriental) . y . • 

A man Withhold three- cornered hat 






The rain, in silver heads . 





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I fall asleep-just so-pip!-pop! because I hear 
the rain 

With saucy lingers playing "Tick-Tack” on the 
window pane. 





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TBat it is someone vivo, 

Is crying in our lilac Kedg e , 

I've heard its loud “Boo Boo 


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far out in ameadow of Re Crust are tethered 
The wonderful 'Nightmares, a singular band , 

They re fastened to stah.es made of cheese - sticks , 
Their bridles are nice, narrow noodles and all made by hand. 

There’s a pudding-sauce Pond.a stream. salad- dressing 


Both set in a meadow, and also a Mound, 
"Which last is composed of aNeufchatel cheese. 
And little Welsh Rabbits are hopping around! 









The Nightmare's colts are cunning things 
Come from eating cruller rings 

Out of all proportion to 

What has teen considered due . 

They come from having greedy eyes 
For those little two- cent pies ! 

Come from having orbs that are 
Larger than your stomach., far ! 


The hightcolts only come when you 
Fat much more than you ought to 

Only come to boys that stuff 
And cram with many a tart and puff 

Mind your “P’s” and “QVJ my lad. 

Try to he not half so had . 

P’s for Parents, Q’s for queer 
Things that you might like,my dear! 





He comes when the light’s out, to prance in the gloom 
All over the corners ofmy little room . 

Oh my dear friend just think, wouldn’t yon 
Be scared,ifhe jumped in the dark witha‘’BOO?" 

The Big furry paws, I can hear h ounce around 
With a pluff and a pi off and a plaff , on the ground , 

Of course I can t see him, hut then, never fear. 

He’s always around when the night time drawj- near. 

Hark. ! D ont you hear him- oh look.- over there ! 

It’s the form of the awful old nighly time hear, 

Vhooooooooooo ! Just listen, cant yon 
Hear his hig breathing go rackety roooooooooo ! 

I know I am foolish to dread such a hear 
That re ally “ainf ’ livin g at all anywhere! 


^^^h dear -me ! Oh dear me 1 I really declare . 

That I am afraid of the horrid "Night Bear. 





The Borderlands of T^igKt. 

I Tiop e ""High. living” wont include 
A. little Tboy liK.e me, for 1 
Have done noharm to any one 
Beneath. fh.e everlasting snn- 
I’nv glad, they live so high. ! 

Now tlvey will never care to come 
Such. distances to visit here. 
For ttvere tlvey stay 
All niglvt - hy day 

TTlvey’re sleeping , never fear . 






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# Ihe world is hung from the ceiling shy, 
iBy millions of golden nails , 

And nil live night 
While we’re hid from sight 

We rock throtigh the gusts and gales 
By a moonbeam string 
Ve swirl and swing 

Till the Spirit of Morn unveils . 


All cradled deep we sway and sleep. 

Each of ns, child, and all, 

A counterpane 
Of the mist and rain 

Covers us lest we fall . 

And thus we go 
There, to and fro. 

Till the Spirit of Morn, shall call ! 



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am 


I Ke Tower Clock, is an eye 

Burning soflyinfhe dawn, 
lighted dxilly in the loft 

By the keeper, and upon 
The sleepy city throwing 

Such awatchful ,kindly glance , 
Saying “ Sleep and 1 will wake yon 
At the proper time”- Perchance 
You’ve not noted this resemblance 
To a huge and human eye , 
Gazing down fhe gulf of Time 


As fKe Tushinq hours goby? 

How it watches for their passage 

Clutching , Keeping them in hand. 

Thus the Busy eye goes on 

Scanning all the neighboring land. 
Thus, the Clock-eye in the morning 

Marked around fKe sKining iris 

"With fKe lines that make fKe houw, 
Looks for leagues across fKe cify. 

Looks along fKe world for miles 
And when daylight comes again, 

Looks again and winks and smiles \ 



■ "he Owl, it is -a -white -faced, clock 
A That ticks five -whole nigM through , 
Tot- when I wake, I hear it strike - 
“It’s two, its two,- its two’.’ 


I never have to strike a match 
Nor ask as others do. 

What time is it?- fori caxvhear 
Tit’s two -it’s two -it’s two!” 


That’s if I chance to fall awake, 
I hear the Owl- Clock who 
Is filling all the silent glade 
With TWO -TWO -it’s TWO ! 


It’s strange it’s never any hour 
Brit two and two and two ! 

I wonder if the very same 

Strikes yon and yon and yon ? 


Or have yon lived, where in the woods 
Upon a hickory grew 
A little white -faced, owl who struck 
It’s two -if ’s two -it’s two? 


If not, you’ve missed the happy thought 
That I in childhood knew- 
I did not have to rise jnst then - 
'T was o-n-l-y two-oo-oo! 


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JLhe Moon-Lamp’s sitting by itself. 

Upon its massive mantel shelf. 

From its glowing orb it flings 
On our garden magic rings. 

The streahs and stripes of opal knot 
Themselves upon the grassy plot. 

How insignificant the show 
Of the fire -flys little glow! 

Its candles seem so small to me 
Vhenthe Moon-Lamp’s rays 1 see. 

The great low moon that rests, a hall. 
Upon our very garden wall . 

It is the moon-lamp helps me read 
The message of thelittle weed, 
It,itis,that helps me spell 
The spell of lovely lilly belle. 

I read the reed’s strange lines and look 
Between the pages of the brook. 

A pleasant thing to banish gloom. 

This lamp within my garden room . 





Upon the other side of* tKist 
"World on which we turn and twist . 


X guess X’U 'have to get off now 
And try and iKove hex anyhow. 

To ever get us over there - 
Or, in fact, to anywhere . 

It Tvia3s.es me dizzy now to tluiik 
That we are standing -at tHe hrink 

Of such a rolling sort of hall- 
I wonder that we do not fall . 

Some morning when tire fir's t hell rings 
I hope I’ll wake tip with those hings 

Tm really very tired, of all 

This turning ‘round from Spring to Tall, 

And always happening to miss 
The edge of that , the tip of this . 

Each morning I'm surprised to find 
Ve still are tagging on behind ! 

And when I’ve oaught up, you will see 
About the very last of me . 






strange the world must looh at night, 
everijthing turns black ! 

-lie sky, the grass 
Tine “trees, alas 
The wagon’s silver track. 

The Houses all axe sooty cl air h. 

The flowers and horses too. 

A.nd things by- day, 

Both bright and gay-, 

Tahe on “this .soxnher hue . 


A, hold and stem magician m ust 
Live s oxne-wher e , d on t von think, 
Who has the power 
To change all oar . 

Fine world -with wix ar d ’>s ink r 






IMi&illites: 


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is the Witch Cat who makes the doors 
Who curls -round your legs with a purr soft and 
Who hides collar TmttoTYS under the stands 
And makes the host China slip out of your hands. 


She comes after dark with a leap and a cry 
To haunt the dark cellar with emerald eye. 

In over the chimneys, and under the moon. 

She rides with the Witch Hag whose' 1 curdilling” croon 


Makes the hold shiver and- she's gone like a streak 
She's in the secret of laxson and leak. , 

She sidles and idles and bridles by day 
Sarcastic and bored at the things that you say. 


Miss Tabby so shabby and flabby, you 5eera 
To turn to a dozen black cats, in my dream. 

You skulk like a shadow behind the "back door’ 
I leap -it’s a shadow, just that ,nothincj more ! 


Then I know it’s the Witch Cat hunting Tats in the gloom 
And that is no branch tapping walls of the room. 
These .soft things in the dark/are her ruff les of fur, 
And this unexplained noise is her wonderful purr. 



They nibble , rfnaw, 

And paw and run and bile . 


And yet I "know they may not be 
TKe Ghost Hats after all- 
But flapping fringe 
And squeaking binge 

Tbe tassels on the wall ! 




^JLhe Shadows loom athwart the walls . 

When the wa-ilixvq Hight-wind. calls - 
So they tramp alongtlxe floors 
Steal about the corridors 
Listexvl where "their padded footstep falls . 


Sends abroad tlvis rabble rout- 
Sends abroad th.es e creatures dim and dumb! 

» 


The Night-wind blows and they will come 
The Night wind heats his blaring drum - 
Shakes the curtains all about 







rjhe candles, in bonnets, prepare to go out, 
[So it's time little children were running abouftl 









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